Click, click, as the briefcase is closed and taken from the dead man's hand. Blood pooling and soaking into the carpet turning the red into black as it dries. A gun taken from the holster of another dead man along with the extra magazines from his coat, the rifle would be perfect if they had two free hands, so the pistol will do.
Click, squeak, as the door is unlocked and opens and they begin walking down the hall, keeping their eyes and ears open and their hand at the ready, ready to react.
Ding, squeak, as the elevator doors begin to open and a man with a shotgun steps out and sees them walking down the hall. Aim is quickly taken.
Bang, bang, as the pistol fires twice and the man drops, he forgot to rack a shell. Stepping into the elevator before it closes, going down. A moment to take a breath and refocus. Only a moment, as the elevator stop and doors open, another man with a shotgun, quickly drops to the floor dead.
Drip, drip, as the blood falls into puddles on the floor. Their steps kept track of by the blood they stepped in, allowing their tracks to be traced, as useless as that would be.
Chunk, creak, as the door to the stairwell is opened and the clacking of shoes is heard, only one set but quickly becoming two, then three. One with a shotgun, one with a pistol.
Bang, bang, as two shots are heard but only one drops, falling down the stairs and stains the steps with more blood, so much blood. Nothing was going to stop them, not even the wound now on their ear, or at least what's left of it, blood pouring down the side of their face.
Click, clack, as the shotgun racks another round and an empty shell falls down the stairs, not even caring that the man behind him on the landing is now dead, his head now with a gaping hole in it.
Bang, ding, as the round that had put a hole in the man's chest falls to the ground, along with the man and his gun, they walk past the man, picking up more blood on their shoes as they finally make it to the second floor. Not much that would be able to stop them now, the plan having gone without a hitch at this point, surely something would go wrong.
Clang, clomp, as the special forces team kicks open the door to the bottom floor and begins making their way up the stairs, of course something went wrong. A rat on the inside, most likely dead now, just what a rat deserves. Second floor will have to do as they duck past the door.
Crack, slam, as they kick open a door and begin running, if their plans went correctly the car should be right out of this window. Hopefully just a car would be outside this window.
Crack, thunk, as the window smashes into pieces and scatter across the parking lot. Nothing can match the pain of hitting a car roof from a second story window. A rib, no two, definitely two, nothing punctured. Rolling off the roof they hop into the convertible next to the car and slide the key in.
Roar, screech, as the engine starts and the tires spin, driving the car out of the lot and into traffic, nothing is going to stop them now. Convertible roof goes up and they drive as fast as they can, making their way to the highway. Five o'clock, traffic hour.
Honk, beep, as the people angrily shout at the convertible getting ahead of everyone, they slow to everyone else's speed and blend in, no cops were tailing, the people may be angry but that's ok. Went off without a hitch.
Click, click, as the briefcase is opened again and they're face to face with the most valuable item in the world.
Tick, tick, as they begin to realize that they weren't the only one with a plan. They felt so bad that the people around them would have to go through what was about to happen.
Click, boom, crash.
YOU ARE READING
An Escape
Short StoryA collection of my writing, like it or not it's what I write and I'm proud of most of it. Requests are accepted.
